I remember several things very clearly about my first day of eighth grade. I rode the bus to school for the first time that day. It was the first time I got to walk up the stairs of the “new” Irma Lerma Rangel Young Women’s Leadership School at Daniel “Chappy” James Learning (inhale) Center. At the top of those stairs stood Mr. Raniere, an image that would become my last, unclouded memory of him. But most of all I remember the list.

It was a list of goals that I was asked to write during history class. And it went something like this:

1. Finish college by age 21

2. Complete my first film (feature, short, documentary, animation, anything) by age 23

3. Have a well-paying film “career” by age 24

4. Marry by age 25

5. Have kids by age 28

6. Go with the flow

Oh, how things have changed.

What do I want right now? For starters, none of the above (except maybe a less stringent version of #2). But what do I want, now that I’ve had a few more years to think about it?

Well, I’d like a home like this someday:

Nothing too flashy. As long as it has floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, I’d be in heaven.

And I’d also like one of these:

I’d name him Piggy Wig, every night I’d read him a booky wook, and he’ll grow up to be a fine Droogy woog.